Up we went. Through driving snow and beside narrow but deep chasms. Over land untouched by man, Mutt led the way. His four padded feet made his passage swifter, yet he took care with every step over slick rock and even more slippery ice.

  He’d spoken about the mountains as if they were alive. Ancient, having played witness to peoples come and gone. With the power to carve and shift the earth. It all sounded quite poetic, but all I saw was a place that didn’t want me there.

  A feeling I was accustomed to, and growing more so by the year.

  As long as I’d been a man, I’d been one of a transient nature, from before death to now. Never with a home, always on the move. Still… I’d always found a people or a purpose.

  What was it now?

  After I brought Rosa back—if I brought Rosa back—then what? Would we live on the run forever? It was one thing to be an outlaw, keeping out of reach of the law, but hiding from Lucifer and God himself?

  And what about that? Since all this began, it was “White Throne this” and “White Throne that.” So little was ever said about who occupied that throne. Sure, there were hints and whispers—the Almighty, yada, yada. I was no closer to having a relationship with that king than I’d been before Ace Ryker shot me dead.

  What was the good in serving a court from so far away, I couldn’t even smell the feast?

  A howl cried out. Mutt smashed into Timp’s neck and sent her reeling. He tumbled through heaps of snow, and when I came around, icy fragments sprayed up as a chunk of rock crashed down across our path. Timp reared nervously, and one of her hooves slipped.

  “Easy now.” I guided her back, both hands extended to try to assuage her.

  “You are not paying attention!” Mutt snapped. He glared at me from his hands and knees, back to human form.

  I had no witty retort. He was right. “Sorry. Got a lot on my mind.”

  “Empty mind or none of us survives.”

  He strode by me, using branches to keep from sinking too deep in the snow. No modesty; naked again. I guess when you spend so long living as a dog, etiquette falls by the wayside.

  “You’re gonna damn freeze!” I warned.

  He stopped by the ledge of a great split in the earth. To our right, a straight drop. To our left, a sheer cliff up. The path across now cut down the yawning chasm.

  “This as far as Timperina goes!” Mutt called out over the wailing wind.

  I hopped down and folded Mutt’s tunic over his shoulder, a gentle reminder once again to put some damn clothes on. “I think it’s the end of the line for you as well, my friend.”

  He stared at me, dumbstruck. Tilting his head as if he’d grown a bit too used to doglike gestures, he said, “You will be lost.”

  “Sometimes, being lost is the only way to find what you’re looking for,” I said with a smile I didn’t mean.

  Truth was, I had so little to lose, and he had so much. I couldn’t stomach the thought of that boy falling to his death over some flower and a woman he didn’t know. “This is my cross to bear.”

  “My debt—”

  “Is paid in full,” I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Your people have been friends to me when no one else would. I ain’t gonna let you make yourself into a block of ice on my behalf.”

  “I—”

  I squeezed his shoulder and shoved him back toward Timp. “That’s enough of it now. You wanna owe me? Get Timp back in one piece. And once you’re there, watch over Rosa. If I don’t return, find a way to bring her back, Mutt. Protect her.”

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  Timperina snorted, then nudged Mutt on the rump.

  “Yeah, I know, girl,” I said. “You’re done.”

  “I can help,” Mutt protested.

  “But you can also die. I’m sure you already know that I can’t.” Not a crack formed on the stone that was his face, which confirmed my suspicions. Not much went over the head of his matriarch, wise as she was. “I’m cursed to remain, boy. To never know a restful sleep. To never again enjoy a home-cooked meal. I aim to ensure that Rosa and you can.”

  That gaze of his never slipped, eyes red from the heady wind and snow. Or maybe it was tears. I don’t know. Although his powers had taken him this far, lips going blue was a hard thing to ignore. I’d seen too many compadres never wake up, frozen to death without even knowing they knocked on death’s rotten door.

  Finally, he sucked in a breath and nodded.

  Without further protest, he removed his long bow and quiver from Timperina’s saddle, and fastened one end of a rope to the shaft of an arrow. I may not have needed blankets or fire to survive, but only a damn fool went mountain climbing without rope.

  Slipping past me, the boy took aim and fired the arrow across the gorge. It stabbed into a thick trunk about fifty feet up on the other side, though I didn’t hear it. Then he handed the end of the rope to me before shoving the bow and quiver into my chest.

  “Do you know how to draw?” he asked.

  “Can’t even make a stick figure,” I said.

  “I meant—”

  “I know what you damn meant. Yeah. It’s been a bit, but well enough.” Even I wasn’t sure if I was lying. Guns and silver bullets had been my tools of trade for longer than I cared to remember. Fella named Norman Macmillan—a member of the Scuttlers—taught me. He was an expert, yet even with all my practice, I’d only ever managed to hit a target if it was still as a dead mouse. Even that was decades past.

  “Good. No guns,” Mutt said.

  “But—” This time, he cut me off.

  “Too loud. You will anger the mountain. Bring it down.” He made wild gestures with his arms. “There are ends worse than death.”

  I caught his meaning. We were nearing the top of the world by now. A gunshot could cause an avalanche, and the one thing I wasn’t sure I could make it out of was being buried beneath a hundred feet of wet snow in a place where it’d never melt.

  That thought gave me a shudder, bringing me back to that time in Elkhart when I was buried alive like a damn fool. “Fine. Just do me that favor, get Timp back in one piece.”

  Timp whinnied.

  “I know.” I gave her a look. “Enjoy your new friend.”

  All I could think to do was offer Mutt a hearty nod. Kindness and support were not things I was suited to. Even when running with Big Davey. Hell of a guy, not that we ever shared heart-to-hearts by the fire or anything. God rest his soul.

  There it was. God again. My hand went unconsciously to the necklace keeping me safe as I turned toward the gap.

  God wasn’t here.

  Nobody was.

  Thoughts of Him or anyone else helping me were about as useful as a bucket without a bottom.

  I heard shuffling behind me but didn’t turn. Best not to watch two of my few remaining friends leave as I took the rope and moved to the edge. The wind howled like a thousand restless ghosts crying out. My hair whipped my face, each end clumped with frost.

  I held the rope with bare hands. In addition to not knowing how I’d fare against the rage of an avalanche, I wasn’t sure what a thousand-foot fall would do to me either. In this sort of weather, sensation would have helped, so I checked my grip three times, giving the thing several hearty pulls. Not needing gloves made it easier. Once I was satisfied, I stepped off the ledge.

  There was no stomach falling. No fear crawling up my throat. I didn’t even feel the wind berate me from all sides as I swung clear across the distance.

  It all happened faster than expected. My shoulder slammed into the rock face, and my body lurched. Somehow, I held steady. Numbness and snow in my eyes made it hard to tell where my boots were, but I got them against the stone and started my ascent.

  A gale rushed by me, air screaming like an overloaded train barreling into station. My foot slipped, twisting me to one side. Hemp fibers stretched to their limits, and I knew what was coming next.

  Clambering quickly, I got as high as I could before the inevitable snap. I pushed off a sharp outcropping as the arrow came loose, and the rope folded overhead. At the same moment, I pulled my lasso free and lashed up aimlessly, hoping against hope it caught something.

  To even my own shock, the line went taut. My hand slid down the length of it until I was able to get a wrap around my wrist at the last moment. The pop of my shoulder informed me of a dislocation as I swung back the other way.

  One stubborn boot at a time, I conquered that wall. Once at the top, I rolled onto flat land and took a moment to catch a breath I didn’t need. Then, I turned over and slammed my shoulder against rock, popping it back into place without a fuss.

  My gaze froze when I sat up. My lasso had snagged hold of half a tree trunk. All it had were two branches jutting off on either side, though not far. The way the light caught it from that angle, it took on the visage of a petrified cross. All alone up here—a mountain steeple.

  I shook my head. “Get ahold of yourself, Crowley.”

  Just getting my lasso free snapped one of the ice-brittle branches clean off. The other came free courtesy of my boot. Nobody was looking out for me anymore. I got lucky, that was all. And I’d take luck over a fast drop and being forced to climb again.

  Which I would. I’d climb forever and ever if it meant giving Rosa a chance.